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Sage Francis En Route to Save Solana Beach

Rhode Island’s Sage Francis emerged from the turn of the century indie rap boom and backpacker movement as the godfather of confessional hip-hop. Set against a genre historically predisposed toward image over reality, Sage favored a poetic delivery fraught with the more harrowing side of the human condition. His official debut Personal Journals, released on Oakland alt-rap label Anticon, built on a formula he had hinted at on his Sick Of... mixtapes and created an entirely new style of revelatory hip-hop. The album allowed the listener an unprecedented glimpse behind the curtain into a rapper’s struggles with depression, a father’s crippling drug addiction, and a sister with serious cutting issues.

From there on the floodgates opened and out poured like-minded artists such as Atmosphere, Eyedea, and Aesop Rock, creating left-field hip-hop with hearts firmly on sleeve. These emotionally vulnerable emcees spoke to a new generation of fucked-up kids, much in the way Nirvana had a decade prior. Labels such as Anticon and Rhymesayers and Definitive Jux, who offered a platform for the confessional movement, thrived in an epoch where college radio still meant something and wide-eyed kids traded burned CDs of their indie-rap heroes. Many San Diegans may recall the era when freestyle cyphers routinely formed in parking lots and storefronts after local shows at shithole, teen-centric venues such as the Scene and Epicentre in the days before indie rappers could book gigs at the Belly Up and Casbah. It was a strange and beautiful scene that seemingly vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and one of its defining moments was undeniably the release of Sage’s Personal Journals.

Looking back now, a decade after it hit independent record store shelves, the album is as relevant today as it was in the post-9/11 world where it first resonated. The themes contained in songs such as “Runaways” and “Broken Wings” speak as loudly as ever. With that at least partially in mind, Sage Francis is playing a string of one-offs to mark the ten-year anniversary of that groundbreaking record. Having hung up his touring hat in 2010 following the release of the indie rock-influenced Li(f)e to focus on running his Strange Famous Records label and cultivate his greying beard, Sage has become an elusive creature, difficult to catch live anywhere and particularly on the West Coast. A showman who leaves it all on the stage and brings filthy, gallows humor along to counteract the abyss-staring nature of his catalogue, Sage constantly changes his live presentation via subtle improvisation and an array of backing bands. The Providence-based wordsmith has played countless memorable gigs in San Diego, from his first live band tour stop at the extinct Canes to his face-melting performance at Soma some five years back on Father’s Day, which included a spontaneous, between-song “Happy Father’s Day...to my dick” rant, its lack of recorded documentation tantamount to war crimes. Those within driving distance of the Belly Up would do well to make the trip out to catch the enigmatic Sage on March 18.

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Rhode Island’s Sage Francis emerged from the turn of the century indie rap boom and backpacker movement as the godfather of confessional hip-hop. Set against a genre historically predisposed toward image over reality, Sage favored a poetic delivery fraught with the more harrowing side of the human condition. His official debut Personal Journals, released on Oakland alt-rap label Anticon, built on a formula he had hinted at on his Sick Of... mixtapes and created an entirely new style of revelatory hip-hop. The album allowed the listener an unprecedented glimpse behind the curtain into a rapper’s struggles with depression, a father’s crippling drug addiction, and a sister with serious cutting issues.

From there on the floodgates opened and out poured like-minded artists such as Atmosphere, Eyedea, and Aesop Rock, creating left-field hip-hop with hearts firmly on sleeve. These emotionally vulnerable emcees spoke to a new generation of fucked-up kids, much in the way Nirvana had a decade prior. Labels such as Anticon and Rhymesayers and Definitive Jux, who offered a platform for the confessional movement, thrived in an epoch where college radio still meant something and wide-eyed kids traded burned CDs of their indie-rap heroes. Many San Diegans may recall the era when freestyle cyphers routinely formed in parking lots and storefronts after local shows at shithole, teen-centric venues such as the Scene and Epicentre in the days before indie rappers could book gigs at the Belly Up and Casbah. It was a strange and beautiful scene that seemingly vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and one of its defining moments was undeniably the release of Sage’s Personal Journals.

Looking back now, a decade after it hit independent record store shelves, the album is as relevant today as it was in the post-9/11 world where it first resonated. The themes contained in songs such as “Runaways” and “Broken Wings” speak as loudly as ever. With that at least partially in mind, Sage Francis is playing a string of one-offs to mark the ten-year anniversary of that groundbreaking record. Having hung up his touring hat in 2010 following the release of the indie rock-influenced Li(f)e to focus on running his Strange Famous Records label and cultivate his greying beard, Sage has become an elusive creature, difficult to catch live anywhere and particularly on the West Coast. A showman who leaves it all on the stage and brings filthy, gallows humor along to counteract the abyss-staring nature of his catalogue, Sage constantly changes his live presentation via subtle improvisation and an array of backing bands. The Providence-based wordsmith has played countless memorable gigs in San Diego, from his first live band tour stop at the extinct Canes to his face-melting performance at Soma some five years back on Father’s Day, which included a spontaneous, between-song “Happy Father’s Day...to my dick” rant, its lack of recorded documentation tantamount to war crimes. Those within driving distance of the Belly Up would do well to make the trip out to catch the enigmatic Sage on March 18.

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